


A Touch of Green

by Zeke Black (istia)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Minor Louisa Perkins/Buck Wilmington, POV Buck Wilmington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/Zeke%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck gets more than he bargained for when he suggests Chris use an Escort service to hire a fake-date for a gala event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Green

"Come on, Chris, what's the big deal? It'll please the Governor to see us attending his fancy-schmancy party as pseudo actual guests instead of just lurking on the sidelines."

"And why the hell should I care about pleasing the Governor?"

Buck peered at him over the tops of his boots resting on Chris's burl coffee table. "We're in security. We're the _Governor's_ security. It's good policy to have the Governor on our side and he happens to want to show us off."

Chris snorted. "You mean it's good policy for you to please the Governor's head of PR." He sipped his whiskey, then cocked his head with a knowing look. "How is the delightful Louisa, by the way?"

Buck grinned. "More delightful by the day. If you get my meaning." He waggled his eyebrows just to see the corners of Chris's mouth twitch upwards as they always did when Buck went suggestive on him, which was just encouraging the incorrigible, but Chris knew that.

Buck swung his feet to the floor and sat forward, serious now. "Look, I know you're not ready to date, and I respect that. But that doesn't mean you can't pretend, right?"

Sarah and Adam had died three years ago, and Chris was a lot more even-keeled now than he'd been for the first couple of years, but Buck knew better than anyone the hole there still was in Chris's life and soul. If Chris really didn't want to be seen in public with someone who would get him talked about in the gossip rags, then they'd just work around his absence. It wasn't like Hopewell was going to fire them for Chris being Chris; he'd had plenty of time to get used to Chris's doing things his way and no fucking other.

But Chris paused with his glass halfway to his mouth and tilted his head, curiosity widening his eyes. "Pretend date? You want me to get a fake date to take to this ridiculous party?"

"It's only for a few hours." He saw Chris's mulish look in the offing, and hurriedly amended. "An hour--maybe a couple hours, tops. Just show your face, shake some hands, maybe take a twirl once around the dance floor, and it'll be done. The Governor'll get to point out the elusive and infamous Chris Larabee in his employ and he'll be satisfied."

"Right." Chris swallowed his drink. "Sorry, I don't have any fake dates dangling around."

Buck grabbed his tablet and brought up the page, then got up and leaned over Chris to display it. He knew Chris wouldn't make things easy by actually taking the tablet himself if Buck offered it, but shoving it in his face should do the trick. He'd learned years ago there wasn't any point in being subtle if you wanted to get anywhere with Chris.

"I got you covered there, old dog. See, it's dead simple."

Chris drew his head back away from the tablet Buck thrust under his nose, but paused, eyes caught. He looked up at Buck with an incredulous look.

"You want me to hire a call girl to pretend to be my date? What the hell, Buck!"

"No, pard, hell! They aren't _call girls_. They're Escorts." He hoped the capitalized "Escort" sounded in his voice and imparted its shiny qualities. "They don't sell sex. Or, at least, none of them I've met do. You pay them to go out to events with you and they're professionals! They know how to dress and act more ladylike than born ladies. And every one of them is a beauty."

"Like you've ever met a born lady." Chris slanted a look up at him. "You've hired escorts? Why the bitching hell would you do that? I thought you had women on the string for all your needs and extra on Sundays."

Buck tried not to squirm. "Well, sometimes they're busy. It takes a lot of time looking that beautiful, you know. They devote entire evenings and sometimes weekends to going to spas and having their nails done and their hair treated and--" He waved a hand airily, trying for a casual, know-it-all air about the esoterics of female beauty routines.

Chris snorted again. "Riiiight. Spas."

"Okay, look, this isn't about me. All right? Just trust me, I've used this service once or twice...or so. A few times. The point is, I've vetted the service, okay? The girls are nice, they're professional, and they look and smell real elegant. They know how to charm the socks off men like the Governor's jackass entourage in their sleep, and they know how to do fake relationships that could convince Doubting Thomas himself."

Chris barked a laugh and settled back in his chair with his glass. Buck went back to the couch.

"I can set up an account for you," he said hopefully.

"I think I can manage that much myself." Chris's voice had that dry note that meant he was truly amused.

Buck grinned and sighed an internal breath of relief. That was the worst part done! Now just to nudge Chris over the edge.

"They like a few days' notice. And you'll have to pick one and a couple of alternates in case the first one isn't available."

Chris looked even more amused. "I'll think on it."

So that was that and Buck knew when to stop pushing. If Chris was amused, he might go along with the whole deal just out of a love of pulling the wool over the arrogant Governor's eyes. Hopewell and his flashy ways and under-the-table dealings hadn't endeared him to Chris at all. Still, the job as security for the Governor paid obscenely well, and there was, of course, the perk of Buck's having to interact one-on-one with the lovely Miss Louisa Perkins, the Governor's head of public relations.

:::::::

Vin refused Buck's attempt to get him to bet on whether Chris would turn up with a fake date or not, but Nathan and JD were in, and even Josiah threw twenty bucks into the pot. Buck was the only one who thought Chris would actually go through with it. Vin just looked, as usual when it came to Chris, like a cat with a secret magic fountain of cream all his own. Like he had it all wrapped up, but wasn't about to share.

The day of the gala was busy as Chris had them check all the surveillance equipment they'd set up in the ballroom at the Hilton one more time, as well as all the exits, corridors leading to and from the doors, and the service elevator and underground garage, along with running the security checks on the catering and entertainment folks one more time.

A couple of hours before the party, Buck popped into Chris's office and made his voice as casual as he could.

"So, old dog, who'd you choose?"

Chris didn't even bother to look up from whatever he was studying on his laptop, but his mouth quirked upwards. "You know them all by name?"

"Not all! A few. Mandy would've been my choice." He smacked his lips. "That girl's middle name is Elegance. Her coloring would suit yours, too."

"Only if we color-coordinate our clothes. So, what d'you think, Mr. Complementary Colors: Should I opt for the pink or the yellow?" Chris's smirk was mostly laughter.

"Hah-hah. I was just saying. With her height and her fairness, she'd look real fine on your arm, whether your clothes match or not. Anyway, you'll be in black, won't you, as always, so it doesn't matter what color she wears. You being Hopewell's _Man in Black_ and all." He smiled in appreciation of his own rendition of Hopewell's smarmy, self-congratulatory voice.

Chris laughed. "Get out of here. You'll have to wait and see."

"So you are going to show yourself at the gala? Awesome!"

He bounced out of the office to try to claim his prize money early, but none of them were having it. He hadn't won until they actually saw Chris walk into the party with a date, JD insisted. That boy was spending far too much time with Nathan these days and picking up Nathan's careful, untrusting ways. Skeptical was a good look on Nathan, but Buck just found it downright disturbing on JD's puppyish face.

Still, Buck was sure he had it in the bag. Chris had all but confirmed he'd be attending the party with an Escort. Buck did a mental fist-pump of triumph and went off to don his own tux. He, of course, would be squiring Louisa on his arm. Both of them being on duty at the time wouldn't slow them down at all. Multi-tasking was only one of the myriad skill sets they shared.

:::::::

Chris was late, of course. Or, at least, a bit tardier than the rest of them who were working in their monkey suits, with high-quality communications devices and small but lethal weapons secreted among their fine wool, silk, and satin. A cummerbund was a danged useful hiding place for all sorts of small items; pity, really, that they weren't worn outside of ballrooms.

But Chris's being late meant that when he did finally arrive, he had the doorway entirely to himself, framing him and his...Escort.

Buck's mouth fell open as JD sputtered beside him and Josiah laughed, deep and hearty. Over the ringing in his ears, Buck could hear Nathan's amused laughter as he danced past with Rain in Buck's peripheral vision. Only Vin, ghosting up beside him at the punch bowl, was suspiciously silent.

"So, he did take your advice, Buck?" JD's voice was cautious and confused. "Picked one of those Escorts you told him about?"

Buck turned to JD, unable to believe the kid would even ask such a question. "That wasn't the kind of Escort I pointed him to, JD!"

Vin chuckled and Buck closed his eyes. "Oh, my god."

Trust Chris to make a splashy entrance. Just trust goddamned Chris Larabee to show up every other fucking person in the room, from the Governor and his trophy wife on down.

Governor Hopewell wanted to show Chris Larabee off like a prize bull? Well, sure, no problem: Chris would grace Hopewell with his presence looking like a fucking million bucks himself, like he could out-arrogance, out-maneuver, and definitely out-draw any one of the rich assholes gathered in the room. Chris looked more sleekly elegant than the entire lot of them put together, yet simultaneously exactly as what he was: the ex-Seal, ex-Special Ops legend who could slice-and-dice any one of them with his pinky.

And on his arm was an Escort, but not Mandy. Not Deirdre, Emmeline, Giovanna, Suzette, or Indira, either. Nor any cool, elegant member of the fairer sex.

He was accompanied by a man. A stranger. An elegant one, to be sure; and definitely a cool one, though with eyes that seemed to Buck to be more calculating than detached as they scanned the room. Penetrating eyes that rested on Buck for a quick appraisal before continuing their assessment of the room and its inhabitants. Oddly intense eyes that seemed weirdly to exactly match the man's vivid green satin paisley vest and matching cravat. Their rich color enhanced the auburn in his sleek hair under the shine of the ballroom chandeliers like he was the goddamned lord of color complementing.

And Chris, the fucking bastard, had a _green paisley_ silk pocket handkerchief as the only dab of color in his usual black-on-black attire: tonight consisting of an impeccably styled black tuxedo with a black linen shirt, black silk tie, and fucking black satin brocade vest.

"What the hell--?" Buck turned to Vin, who just smiled, danced his eyebrows at him, then sauntered across the room to greet Chris.

Buck shook himself and strode after him.

Vin just nodded to Chris's...companion, almost like he knew him already. Or at least wasn't surprised to see him at Chris's side. Hopewell bore down on them before Buck could say anything.

"Mr. Larabee! So pleased you decided to accept my invitation."

Hopewell smiled in his oily way that meant he was trying to be vaguely menacing under his jovial exterior, for god knows what purpose. You'd think he'd have learned by now it didn't put even the tiniest dent in Chris's armor of indifference.

Chris just smiled coolly and said, "It's nice to see how the other half lives."

Only a man with his head as far up his own ass as Hopewell would miss the underlying sarcasm in Chris's voice and manner. His companion didn't miss it, judging by the amused snort that brought Hopewell's gaze to him.

"Ezra Standish." The man offered his hand and Hopewell shook it on what seemed like automatic response. "Delighted to meet you, sir. It looks like a fine company."

While his voice had perfunctory respect, Standish's eyes had already slid past Hopewell to rove over the collected guests again, like a man searching for something of interest that the immediate company failed to provide. Hopewell, unused to being assessed and dismissed so quickly, even if with impeccable manners, frowned--and Chris, not looking at either of them, but scanning the room himself, had an actual, genuine smile tugging at his mouth.

Well. Jesus fuck.

Sometimes the best-laid plans have unexpected results. Still, any result counted! Chris was here and the photographers and reporters in the crowd were going nuts. Buck was a freaking genius.

Later, when Chris was standing alone and aloof beside the open bar for a rare moment, Buck sidled up beside him.

"So, you old war dog, you shopped on the other side of the fence, hmm? You just did that to be contrary, didn't you."

Chris just shot him a sardonic half-grin before doing another scan of the room.

"Where's your, uh, date got to, anyway?" Buck looked around himself, but he couldn't see the sleek auburn head anywhere.

"Playing cards. Some of Hopewell's cronies have a high-stakes game going in the red room off the east corridor."

"Whoa." Buck was genuinely taken aback. None of the female Escorts he'd hired from that company would think of leaving him alone for more than a bathroom break unless he asked them to step aside for a few minutes, since they were professionals and were being paid to be _at_ his side and helping him make a good impression.

Though, of course, Chris did always like his space.

"Tired of his company already?"

Chris looked amused. "He couldn't resist the challenge, or the stakes."

"Can he afford them?"

Chris shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "I'm gonna do a walkaround and check in with the others. Keep eyes on the Governor till I'm back, all right?"

"Will do."

Buck chewed on his lower lip as he settled against the wall in the best position to keep Hopewell under watch. He hoped Chris wasn't bankrolling Standish, who was undoubtedly out of his league and would lose anything he staked. Hopewell's peers had money to burn and spent much of their free time in cutthroat play against each other, and an Escort--even one who looked as experienced as Standish--couldn't hope to compete.

Buck hoped he hadn't inadvertently led Chris into a money-drain situation.

Though it was Chris's own damn fault for not just going with one of the lovely ladies who offered their services through the company. He'd given Chris the best advice he knew! But when did Chris ever do what anyone expected of him? He was the damned human model for the horse you could lead to water, but couldn't force to drink. You were more likely to get your hand bitten off for trying to save his damned hide.

Hopewell wanted to show him off, so Chris turned up looking like he just stepped off the cover of GQ and with a date as stylish as himself--only with one damned hitch. Because Chris was an ornery son of a bitching cur and he never, ever did what people, even those closest to him, expected or wanted.

But, hell, he wouldn't be Chris if he were a yes-man to the likes of Hopewell, or played the reporters' game the way they all wanted. Afraid of being represented in the media as gay or bisexual? Fuck, no, not Chris.

Buck should've known showing Chris that site would just lead to his being as confounding as he possibly could be. Hell, he'd likely not even been content with just choosing a male Escort, but had probably deliberately gone for the one he reckoned would be the least innocuous and conventional. Instead, he'd chosen one who, from his looks to his manner, would be a shit stirrer. A perfect match for Chris himself: and a way to doubly prick Hopewell's ego.

Buck grinned, though he hid his amusement in a glass of punch. Vin stepped up beside him and stood watching the room with a hipshot lean against the table.

"So, you met Standish." It was a statement; trust Vin not to miss anything happening in the room.

"Yeah, got to give it to Chris, he knows how to be ornery as a coon hound while looking like a million bucks. Mary Travis and the rest of the journalists are lapping it up."

"While Hopewell's having to put a good face on it, but is steaming underneath, not least because no one's paying as much attention to him as he expected at his own party." Vin's voice was as light and sparkly as Buck's mood.

He turned to Vin. "How much do you want to wager Chris'll be turning up at all of Hopewell's parties from now on, with or without an invitation, and he'll make sure he can hire Standish for each and every one, just for the pleasure of getting on Hopewell's last nerve?" He rubbed his hands together with glee. 

Vin laughed. "I don't bet on sure things, Buck. You know that." He tipped an imaginary hat and sauntered off on another check of the room.

Buck was doing his own circuit of the room a half-hour later when he caught sight of a familiar tall, black-clad figure on the dance floor. Huh. Chris didn't usually let himself be coerced into dancing. He must've let his guard down--maybe with Mary Travis? She seemed occasionally able to get him to do things nobody else could.

He moved sideways to see through the dancers, then stopped dead and stared. Not Mary. None of the other elegantly gowned women in the room, either. Chris was moving gracefully around the floor with Standish in his arms, of all the freaking people. 

Looked like the man knew his business as well as the rest of the Escorts, at least. He was letting Chris lead--Buck doubted Chris knew how to dance any other way, and wasn't likely inclined to learn--and was smiling and chatting. Standish gave every appearance of fully enjoying himself and Chris's company, his eyes now wholly intent on Chris alone. He was a couple of inches shorter than Chris, though his shoulders in his expensive tux were broad and square. Buck doubted the shoulders of that jacket were padded, unlike various of the men's in the room. Watching the flex of muscles under the fine fabric, Buck was fairly certain that Standish's shoulders and biceps, not to mention his strong thighs, were all his own flesh and sinew.

Not remotely like any woman Chris was likely to date, whether the relationship was make-believe or not. Chewing on his mustache, Buck found it hard to imagine Chris stroking his hands over strong pectorals and well-developed abs, fingers trailing lower to a trail of hair leading down from below the navel....

Buck swallowed and switched his attention sharply back to Chris's face.

Chris seemed relaxed and even relatively attentive as he listened to Standish, who appeared to be carrying the conversation. Other people generally did carry the weight of conversation with Chris--except Chris this time actually seemed to be listening. Buck studied the variety of expressions, mostly variations of amusement, that crossed Chris's face, which was usually stony in this type of situation. "Stony," that is, meaning "bored" to anyone adept at reading him.

Chris had no reason to pretend to be paying attention to his hired date, especially since Hopewell was currently engrossed in conversation with a group of lobbyists in the east corner, his back to the room. Maybe Standish was actually entertaining? Buck frowned, wondering how Standish had managed to hit on topics of enough shared interest to engage Chris's attention on such short acquaintance.

Buck had certainly found Mandy and Gabriella, in particular, _entertaining_ company. So to speak. But, then, he'd always been more sociable than Chris, even back when Chris had fit more into the mainstream, a happy and content husband and father. Never mind during these past three years of the dour Man in Black he'd become in the aftermath of grief and fury.

A Man in Black who now, incongruously, sported a sprig of color in that damned matching green handkerchief.

Well, at least Buck could commend himself on a job well done. Chris had turned up at the ball, thereby simultaneously pleasing Hopewell by bowing to his demands and pissing him off by upstaging Hopewell and usurping much of the attention from the Governor at his own danged party.

The thing about Chris was that he wouldn't care if Hopewell fired them, which Hopewell freaking well knew since his previous attempts to threaten Chris into submission had only gotten him a patented Chris Larabee smirk and a printed resignation on Hopewell's desk within a half-hour. Chris kept a copy on file to print out on demand.

Governor Hopewell did not take kindly to eating his own words. He also, however, knew damned well Chris and the rest of the unit were the best security team in the area, which is why he'd had his slimy chief aide, Horace, hire them. Hopewell valued his skin too much to let the team go, thereby henceforward having to entrust his life and well-being to less competent, and possibly more corruptible, personal security.

Buck just hoped Louisa wouldn't be kept too busy doing damage control this time to slip away to meet him for some private R&R.

But you had to love the old dog and his conniving ways. He tipped his own imaginary hat in the direction he'd last seen Chris, and froze when he caught sight of him. Still on the dance floor, Chris currently had his head thrown back and seemed to be actually genuinely laughing while Standish grinned at him, wreathed in dimples and--hop-along Christ!--was that a fucking _gold tooth_ sparkling like a beacon in Standish's mouth under the chandeliers' myriad lights? Well, dang, if that wasn't the most perfect touch of all!

He hoped the Governor had gotten a good eyeful of it at some point. The only regret Buck had was that he hadn't been nearby to see Hopewell's face whenever that moment happened. Chuckling, he turned away, leaving Chris to the pleasure of his own successful undermining of Hopewell's attempts to hog the spotlight at his own ball, or at least try to reclaim a smidgeon of it for himself.

:::::::

His attempts to get Chris to admit Buck had been downright fucking _inspired_ in regards to the whole Escort matter over the next few days garnered nothing but silent amusement. Buck wasn't sure what the joke was, but Chris keeping his own counsel wasn't anything new.

"Just admit it for once, Chris: I'm a genius. The whole fake-date worked out spectacularly well in putting Hopewell's nose out of joint, and he's going to continue to be annoyed for a good long while, if I know him and his grudges--and we all know the extent of those." He grinned again in reminiscence, stretching his legs under the table in the Saloon on the following Friday night.

Vin and Josiah joined them at the table, Vin carrying a couple glasses of beer and Josiah with shot glasses in one hand and a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon in the other. Vin plunked a beer in front of Buck and sat down with the other, while Josiah pushed a glass across the table to Chris and poured them each a drink.

Chris nodded to Josiah with a smile, tilted his head at Vin, but continued to ignore Buck. As if that had any effect after all these years!

Buck checked the door again. Louisa was running late, but that was pretty much usual for her. Her job as the Governor's PR woman stretched way past normal hours of work. Until she arrived, he was content to sit with the other dateless members of their group. Nathan was at the movies and headed for a late dinner afterwards with Rain, while JD was squiring Casey to a tech show, of all places for a romantic Friday night. She seemed to think it was a great idea for a night out, though, so more power to them!

His own plans included a candlelit table with Louisa in Inez's small, intimate, attached restaurant, eating spicy Mexican dishes, having a few drinks, then going home for the night. His home or Louisa's; he didn't care which bed they ended up in, as long as it was a bed. He was getting too old for making out on the couch or on the floor in front of the fireplace. Though he did smile with inward satisfaction at the memory of their last such tryst--

He started when Vin nudged his foot, then nodded toward the door. Louisa was heading for their table, red curls bouncing on her shoulders like they were celebrating their emancipation from the stylish chignon she generally constrained them into while working. He pulled his legs up and stood to greet her with a kiss on her cheek, inhaling the light fragrance of her perfume, then led her to the bar to wait for their reserved table to be ready. She waved at Chris, Josiah, and Vin as she and Buck walked away.

He nodded his own goodbye, then turned his attention wholly to her.

They were seated in the small restaurant within a quarter hour and, familiar with the menu, they ordered quickly. Louisa enjoyed eating out as much as he did, but he could tell as she relaxed that they wouldn't be lingering long in public tonight. He leaned closer over the small table toward her in shared anticipation, feeling the frisson of expectation shivering along his nerves. She started to lean toward him, too, but suddenly paused, her eyes sharpening over his shoulder before she broke into a satisfied smile.

Buck blinked, startled at losing her attention, though she looked back at him immediately.

"And that's another hundred for me." She smiled at him and dropped her voice to a sultry purr. "We'll have to think of something decadent to treat ourselves with on Horace's money."

He laughed. "You wrangled Hog Horace into making another wager with you? That man never learns!"

"That he doesn't." She grinned and twined her fingers with his. "Such a poster boy for men and their vaunting egos: convinced he always knows better than a mere woman, yet inevitably always wrong."

He chuckled, but felt impelled to say, "Not all men, though."

She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles with a whispery touch, holding his eyes with her own heated ones. "Indeed not. It would be a damned crime if all men were in Horace's mold."

Their food arrived then, and he let go of her hand after a swift, gentle squeeze. He only remembered the subject of her bet with Hopewell's obnoxious senior aide after he'd finished his Tortilla Soup and was halfway through Inez's fabulous Beef Chimichanga.

Louisa laughed. "Oh, after the party, he was swearing up and down that Mr. Larabee had hired a professional to act as his date."

Buck snorted and shook his head. "Well, strike me down with a toadstool! I never pegged Horace as being that observant."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean? The man's about as sharp as the end of a pogo-stick."

"I know. That's why it's funny he'd hit on the truth just by a fluke!" He reached across to touch the back of her wrist. "Sorry about your wager, darling. Still, not like you can't afford the loss. He will lord it over you for the next few weeks, though!"

She put her fork down and stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about, Buck? Of course I'm not wrong!"

"Well, actually--"

"Anyone with eyes not clouded by their own idiocy and ego could see Mr. Larabee and his companion weren't _pretending_ to dance together with all that graceful ease that reeked of familiarity! Just as anyone who can see past the nose on their own face could tell they weren't strangers the moment they walked in the door."

"Darling, I'm sorry, but it was my suggestion to Chris, see. I showed him this site with professional Escorts for hire. Of course, I expected him to choose one of the women, but that's the old dog for you; never will do what anyone expects him to do."

She was shaking her head as she picked up her fork. "Uh-huh. And there I thought it was only Horace and Hopewell who were that thick headed."

He was mildly insulted. "Hey, now, I've known Chris a long time--"

"So you always say." She put the fork down again and rested her chin on her hand. Her eyes gleamed brightly as she smiled at him. "So tell me, Buck, how much are _you_ willing to wager on my being wrong about Mr. Larabee and his date not being in any way fake?"

He wasn't sure just how they'd gotten to this challenge, except Louisa was a woman of firm opinions and self-confidence, which was a major part of her attractiveness, as was her refusal to ever back away from a challenge. Except right now. He didn't want to take her money, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't let go once she had the bit between her teeth. To use an unfortunate metaphor! She was in no way like a horse! Though if she were a horse, she'd be an exceptionally beautiful roan....

He cleared his throat. "I don't want to take your money, darling."

"Oh, come, now. You know I can afford a minor wager. How about, oh, double what tight-fisted Horace was willing to bet? A straight $200. If I win, you can put it toward the tickets for us to attend that concert gala in New York next month." Her smile showed teeth.

"And if you lose?"

"Then you can use my money to pay for the tickets instead of your own." Her infectious laugh made it impossible for him not to join in.

"All right, I reckon I'll have to give up balking about attending that danged thing. Win-win for you!"

"Just as it should be." She held a hand out to him.

He took a breath and let it out with a huff, shaking his head in amusement, and reached across the table to shake on their wager in a ridiculously businesslike way. "Done."

She nodded, her face bright and cheerful. "Excellent! You should probably reserve the tickets right away. Pavarotti doesn't perform often these days and I expect they'll sell out quickly."

"Hang on, there, now! You need to win first or give me the money. I can show you the Escort website tomorrow--"

"My darling Buck, I've already won." She finished the last of her meal and leaned back in her chair, picking up her wine glass.

Her amused eyes moved from his face to over his shoulder, and she tilted her head.

He twisted to look behind him and frowned at seeing Chris--with Standish. Seated at a table in the far corner, they were leaning close together, the candlelight burnishing both their blond and auburn hair to metallic brightness. He felt his mouth drop open. Standish said something and Chris laughed with an unaffected naturalness and leaned back in his chair. His eyes, though, stayed fixed on Standish's face, roaming over his animated features as Standish wove some tale that involved a lot of hand movements as well as a kaleidoscope of expressions tumbling in succession across his face.

Chris watched him with an unwavering gaze, like he was mesmerized by Standish's quick hands and constantly changing features. His smile broadened and softened in concert with Standish's expressiveness, but never fell away completely.

...until Chris suddenly looked up, as though feeling the burn of Buck's stare, and glanced swiftly around the room. His eyes landed on Buck and stopped. Buck could only stare back, aware of his mouth dropped open, still caught in his whirl of thoughts. Chris's smile turned saturnine. Standish, apparently reading the change instantly, turned, saw them, and nodded his head while his sparkling eyes danced between Louisa and Buck. His smile--complete with gleaming gold tooth!--was wholly amused.

Buck didn't manage a response before Standish had turned around again to face Chris. Chris lifted an eyebrow at Buck's stare, still with that sardonic knowingness, and Buck managed to collect himself, snap his mouth shut, produce a smile he hoped wasn't as much of a grimace as it felt with a nod of his own, and turn resolutely away.

Goddamn. He took a deep breath and looked up to meet Louisa's amusement.

"Oh, if you could see your face!" she laughed.

He threw up his hands. "I have no idea what the hell's going on! Chris is now dating his fake date? How does that even work?"

She reached across the table to take his hand in her cool fingers. "I think if you check out that website of yours, you might find a surprise." She cocked her head and her fingers tightened on his. "Speaking of which, my dear Buck, perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to just how--and when--you became familiar with an Escort site?"

:::::::

He went into the office early the following morning, feeling as invigorated as a night with Louisa always left him--especially a night that involved his dedicated efforts to convince her that his use of Escorts predated her advent into his life.

A check of the Escorts' website revealed exactly what Louisa had apparently already deduced: The company offered the services of no one called Ezra or Standish, and, more to the point, none of the photos were of him. Ezra Standish wasn't a bought date.

At least not from that site. It would be just like Chris to take Buck's idea and find another similar place on his own to hire a date from just to confound Buck. That was the mean old dog to a T.

"Don't you think that's kind of a lot of effort just to pull a prank on you, Buck?" JD looked at him doubtfully over his morning can of Classic Coke.

The others had arrived one-by-one while Buck was paging through search results with increasing feverishness.

Nathan snorted. "Not to mention Chris isn't exactly known for wasting his time on adolescent pranking."

Josiah contributed only a deep burr of a chuckle, but that was annoying enough to Buck's flayed nerves.

Vin finished his report on last night's issue-free assignment and sent it to the printer.

"Anyone who isn't blind could tell at a glance they weren't new to each other, anyhow." Vin slanted a lazily judgmental look at Buck. "Maybe your observational skills need a refresher course, Bucklin, if you missed all that blatant body language when they were dancing."

He grinned at Buck's grimace.

"Not you, too," Buck muttered. He looked up from the screen and stretched, conceding defeat. "Okay, I'll admit I can't find anything about Standish being a hired professional. But am I the only person around here who finds this whole thing hinky? I mean, one day Chris agrees to bring a fake date to the ball and, the next thing you know, he's out having a romantic dinner with the guy!"

Vin leaned back in his chair, relaxed as a cat basking in the sun. "Nah, I reckon it was just convenient timing and Chris took advantage of it. I've been pretty sure he was seeing somebody for the last, eh, six months or so. Didn't have any idea who, though."

Vin exchanged enigmatic looks with Josiah, Nathan, and JD, all of whom looked considering for a few moments, then nodded. Buck ground his teeth.

Vin continued in the same placid tone. "Guess he felt him and Standish weren't gonna be splitting up any time soon, so was ready to come out in the open about it. You just happened to walk into giving him an easy way to mess with you, Buck."

"Again." JD grinned.

"Six _months_? And you all knew? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Josiah, hands steepled in front of himself, nodded. "Seems about right. That's when his demeanor changed. Not flagrantly, of course, but the signs were there if you looked closely enough."

The others were nodding in agreement as they turned to their work.

Buck rolled his eyes. The uneasy feeling in his gut that they were right lingered, though. Dammit. Somehow, he'd missed all the signs. Inexcusable, even subtle as the signs would've been, considering it was Chris.

Later, however, watching Chris through the door of his office as Chris made a call between bites of his sandwich on his lunch break, Buck finally saw what the rest of the team had apparently noticed months ago: The way Chris's shoulders relaxed and the smile lines on his face deepened as he spoke quietly into the phone was a freaking flashing neon message.

When Chris put the phone down a few minutes later, Buck took his resolve in hand, went into the office, and sat down.

"So, it's been pointed out to me that I've maybe been a bit of a jackass about this whole Standish matter."

Chris smiled, though the tension flowing back into him, squaring his shoulders, hit Buck right in the belly with a painful whump. "You're always a jackass, Buck."

"Yeah, yeah, like you aren't, too.

"But I've been thinking, since you finally decided to bring Standish--uh, Ezra--out into the open, we should spend some time together, get to know each other. I mean, seems like he's going to be around awhile, right? Louisa and I are heading to New York for the Pavarotti concert next month. How about you and Ezra join us? My treat." He winced internally, but soldiered on. "We might get some of the others to come along, too. Hopewell's planning to spend Thanksgiving weekend at home with the family and the B-team's booked to handle the security at the mansion. We've all got the time off."

The lightening of the caution in Chris's eyes and his slow nod and smile eased the constriction in Buck's throat.

"I'll run the idea by Ezra, see what he thinks."

Buck left the office a few minutes later on a mission to convince as many of the others as he could to make up a party with them, if Standish agreed to go along. Though he wasn't offering to pay for anybody else, dammit! But Standish seemed like a sociable guy--what the hell he and Chris had in common was so far stumping Buck, but he looked forward to finding the fuck out--and since the search engines had turned up a disturbing lack of info on Standish, maybe he'd be able to glean some useful background knowledge from being in close quarters with the man himself.

He was glad for Chris if he was ready to move on and had found somebody he felt relaxed with! Seriously, he truly was. Still...there had to be more to Standish than dimples, a gold tooth, and green eyes brimming with knife-sharp intelligence, right? Case in point: Standish apparently cleaned out the entire room of high-stake players at the Governor's ball. That information had been startling enough when Vin relayed it, but even more remarkable was that Standish somehow managed the feat with enough charm that nobody appeared to be secretly gunning for him.

Clearly, Standish was much more than he appeared to be on the surface. And Buck was just the person to ferret out any secrets, stripping away the mystery of the appeal of Chris's fake date that wasn't. Buck had, after all, known Chris longer and better than anyone else around! He had a reputation to uphold.


End file.
